Warming Up
by Sathaeri
Summary: Lauryl hates templars. Well, most of them. Fem!Amell/Alistair oneshot!


I sat up abruptly. It had happened again. For the third night in a row, I had a dream. Not a dream. A nightmare.

I closed my eyes and pressed my hand on my forehead, which was damp with sweat. I could still hear the growls, the screams, that deafening roar... they echoed in my mind, and filled me with terror.

I soon became aware of my shaking hands, my heavy breathing, and the sound of someone speaking to me outside the tent. I did my best to steady myself before answering. "Yes?" I said hesitantly.

"Are you okay?" a concerned voice asked.

Oh. It was him. "Yes, I..." My voice trailed off. The darkness scared me, strangely enough. I'd never been scared of the dark before, even when it got this dark in the tower. I pulled my covers up and my knees close to my chest.

"Lauryl?"

His voice snapped me back to reality. "No," I answered, my voice wavering. "No, I'm not okay."

It was silent for a while. I could tell he didn't know what to say. What an awkward young man. He kind of reminded me of Cullen. Finally, I got out of my bedroll and pushed open the tent flap.

Alistair sat in a casual position, one arm on his knee and the other on the ground. He looked up suddenly when I stepped out of my tent. "You're not okay?" he repeated.

"Yes," I scowled, gazing sternly at him. "That's what I just said."

He looked away, probably hoping he hadn't made me angry. That, he'd learned, was a very dangerous thing to do.

"I'm not angry," I assured him. He gave me a grateful look, much more relaxed than I'd seen him before.

"You had a nightmare, didn't you?" he asked carefully. My expression probably gave the answer away. "I did, too," he admitted.

"So, why are you outside my tent?" I asked, raising one eyebrow quizzically.

"I heard you," he said. "You were crying out and... whimpering." He flinched, probably expecting a column of fire to come shooting out of my hands in his direction.

I didn't do anything like that, but I sat down on my knees beside him and flicked my finger. A small flame sprouted at my fingertip. I glanced at Alistair. He looked nervous.

Gently, I pointed at the smoking embers at the center of camp. A thin stream of bright orange heat emanated from my finger and the smoldering pieces of wood came ablaze.

"Much better," I sighed, rubbing my hands and feeling my hands absorb the warmth.

"Couldn't you just have kept a fireball or something in your hand and warm up with that?" Alistair asked.

"And burn myself?" I retorted. "Conjuring flame doesn't make me immune to it."

He smiled sheepishly. "Oh, right."

More silence followed. I continued to warm myself by the fire and Alistair simply sat there beside me. I could tell he was watching me. _Just like Cullen._

A cold wind blew and I shivered. Alistair chuckled. "Can't warm yourself up with your own fire?"

I shot him a warning glance that may as well have been made of daggers. He looked away. I smirked, even with my teeth beginning to chatter.

The wind continued to blow. I found myself starting to lose heat instead of gaining it. I pulled my sleeves down to cover my hands and curled up into a fetal position.

"It's not that cold out here," Alistair said. "You did make a nice fire."

"Is that a lame attempt at a compliment?" I asked rhetorically.

"Heh. Maybe," he answered. "Do you need a blanket?"

"That'd be nice," I said quietly. By Andraste, how cold was it out here?

This time, Alistair smirked. "Well, that's too bad, it looks like I don't have one!"

I scoffed. "What? Then why did you even mention it?"

He didn't answer my question. Instead, he said, "Wait, I think I might actually have one..."

"You b-better not be lying this t-time," I said, my voice shaking from shivering so much. "W-where?"

He wrapped his arms around me. "Right here," he said quietly. I felt him press his body against mine, warming me.

It took me by surprise, but I didn't say anything. I was just reveling in the sudden increase of heat. How in the Maker's name was he still so warm...?

I wriggled my arms under his and got them between my knees and my chest. I expected him to say something, but he didn't. He just sat next to me, with his arms around me, like a blanket.

The wind blew. I took a shaky breath. "Brr..." I mumbled.

His arms grew tighter around me, and he pulled closer to me. I closed my eyes and leaned my head on his chest. He was so comfortingly warm...

Realization struck me like a thunderbolt. I must have jumped, because Alistair released me. "What? What?" he asked, in a somewhat frantic tone.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Huh? Doing what?"

"Don't play dumb," I snapped. "You're not dumb, are you?"

"No," he said quickly.

"Then why are you hugging me?"

"Hugging you? I'm not hugging you."

"Fine. Cuddling. Why are you cuddling with me?"

"Cuddling?" He chuckled. "Hmm, I'm not sure this qualifies as cuddling, exactly."

"Then WHAT are you doing?" I demanded.

"I'm being your blanket," he said, grinning mischievously.

I sighed in exasperation. "And why are you being my blanket?"

"Because you're cold."

"Are you sure?" I pressed. "You're not trying to get close to me for any other reason?"

"I wish you'd just be thankful I'm even here," he said, frowning in fake wistfulness.

We were quiet for a while. He was still sitting next to me, and I could feel his warmth, but he had crossed his arms and was looking at me with one brow raised.

"I... am thankful," I started, breaking the silence. "I'm glad you're here. Really. It feels a lot better knowing I'm not alone in all this."

Alistair smiled. "Likewise." Clearing his throat, he added, "Well, we should probably get back to our tents."

"Yeah..." I agreed. "And... thank you. For... um..."

"For being here," he finished. "For you."

I was taken aback. "Uhh... um, yeah," I said slowly. "For that."

He grinned again and stood up. "Good night," he said in a mocking tone. I watched him crawl inside his tent, which had been set up next to mine.

I stayed by the fire a bit longer and watched the leaping tongues of flame lick the air. I didn't want to admit that that was what I felt inside me: like butterflies, but it was wispier and it tickled.

_Am I falling for him?_ I thought. _No way. Not in love with a templar. Or rather, a templar-in-training. Former templar-in-training...?_

I shook my head vigorously. _Get a grip_, I told myself. _He's a Grey Warden now. "Cut off from our former lives"... he said something like that, didn't he? So, he's no templar._ I smiled to myself. Maybe things could work out after all.


End file.
